A Song for Myself
by logarhythm
Summary: 'The Fallen Angels' - a death metal band Roy absolutely loathes. However, when dragged along to one of their concerts against his will, he finds himself intoxicated by the lead singer and guitarist... to his dismay. Roy/Ed, completely AU. Songfic. [HIATUS]
1. Prologue: I Hate Concerts

_**Yet another**_** story. Sorry. I_ know_ I should be updating _Ward 17_ and _There are Too Many Weirdoes in this Castle_, but I got this idea in my head and I couldn't resist =w= Gomen~**

**Warnings: Yaoi, AU, possible slight OOC from Ed and Al.**

**Disclaimer~**

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><p><strong>Prologue - I Hate Concerts<strong>

"Aww, c'mon, Roy! Just this once!"

Roy rolled his eyes in irritation, shrugging off his best friend. "No way, Hughes. You know I hate that band."

Hughes whined like a dejected puppy, pouting. "Please...? It's my birthday!"

Roy sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He wasn't getting _any_ work done, and the others in the office were beginning to stare. "Fine. Fine, Maes, I'll go to the goddamn concert."

Hughes jumped in joy, letting out a rather girly, "Yay!" before skipping back to his own desk opposite Roy's.

"What was that about?" a blonde asked from Roy's left.

Roy sighed. "It's Hughes's birthday on Saturday. He wants me to go to _The __Fallen __Angels_'s concert."

Riza smirked slightly. "I know you've never been one for emo-screamo music, Roy, but you might just enjoy yourself."

Roy sent her a horrified glance.

"You never know," Riza said wistfully before returning to her own computer, her delicate fingertips striking the keys inhumanly fast. She paused, glancing down at Roy's own keyboard. "I don't see you doing any work."

Roy grunted, before averting his full attention to the office monitor in front of him and trying desperately to keep his mind off the impending doom that was the day after tomorrow.

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><p><strong>Teehee~ :3 I can't wait for Ed to come in X3<strong>

**Tell me how it was? Fave? Alert? Review? Any will do :3**


	2. One: Black and Gold

**Here's the first chapter~ :D Much longer. *Nods***

**I have to upload this before school 'cause there was no time last night... XD**

**Warning: Completely AU. Set in modern day Amestris. Of course, since it's Amestris, automail still exists. (I'm not gonna tell you my version of how Ed got his, 'cause that'd give things away. ;) )**

**Disclaimer~**

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><p><strong>Chapter One - Black and Gold<strong>

"C'mon, Roy, or we're gonna be late - what on _earth _do you think you're wearing? _Wear __something __else!_"

Roy was crudely shoved back into his bedroom by a Hughes closely resembling a terrier on cocaine. Apparently, his simple jeans-and-t-shirt combo hadn't been good enough. As was the same for the other seven outfits he'd tried on.

Roy sighed mournfully, wishing he didn't have to go and have his eardrums blown into his brain. Why couldn't Hughes have asked Hawkeye instead? He discarded the refused clothes on his bed with all the others, and pulled on a pair of black jeans and a white-and-black top closely resembling a chess board. He shrugged into a black zip-up hoodie, striding past Hughes down his corridor as he exited the room.

"That's-" Hughes began to protest, but Roy cut him off irritably.

"I'm wearing this, and that's final." Roy sent Hughes a childish glare, and Hughes relented. After all, it was a miracle he'd even managed to convince Roy to accompany him in the first place. He shouldn't push his luck.

"Fine," Hughes sang, skipping down the narrow hallway to catch up with his best friend's power-stride.

The two left the run-down apartment building, heading towards the old Ford Mustang in the car park out the back. Hughes cracked up after Roy had told him he'd bought a second-hand Mustang off a friend - Maes was convinced the only reason Roy bought it was to inflate his own ego by owning a car with his name on it.

Roy fumbled with his keys as he neared the vehicle, opening the driver's side for Hughes and slipping into the passenger's seat. Roy had - after a rather long conversation in which Hughes insisted he wouldn't crash it - decided to let Maes drive. Roy had no idea where he was going, anyway.

"How far is it?" Roy asked. On one hand, he was eager to get the concert and get it over with - on the other hand, he desperately yearned for Hughes to get lost and end up in Resembool.

"About... fifteen minutes?" Hughes supplied as he tried to find the slot for the key below the steering wheel.

Roy groaned.

Hughes grinned devilishly. "And the concert lasts until ten!" he sang, purposefully dramatizing every syllable just to wind Roy up.

Roy scrunched his face up, grunting in annoyance. He turned his head to stare out of the window - the seven o'clock evening light was somewhat calming to the twenty-six-year-old.

He pondered the thought of what the band would be like live. Hughes had played some of their music rather loudly countless times at work - to Roy it sounded like a kid yelling over the top of a dying cat. He could see no earthly reason how Hughes could love music like that so much. Then again, this was coming from a fan of classical and country music.

The music might not have been to Roy's taste, but the band itself was rather interesting. He'd looked them up after Hughes and told him their name, and he was surprised by the results. The band was, to Roy's mild surprise, made up of only two people; two _brothers_, to be exact. The older sibling was the lead singer and guitarist, and the younger played the drums and backed up the vocals. _Strange_, Roy had thought when he first found out, _I __could__'__ve __sworn __I __heard __two __guitars._ He later found out that both brothers were considered musical geniuses, and for Roy that was more than enough explanation for the inexplicably complicated drum rolls that should not have been performed by just two hands and the seemingly impossible multi-layered streams of semiquavers from the lone guitar.

Roy had paled when he'd seen their photo - two short-ish teenagers with fiery golden hair and eyes, sporting excessive eyeliner and far too many piercings, and in the older sibling's case, black tiger stripes on his cheeks and dark purple lipstick. They'd both been swearing at the camera, a small smirk on the younger brother's face and a dangerous grin on the elder's. Roy inwardly cringed at the thought of ever meeting them in person. They seemed the type to drink, smoke, do drugs and burn down his apartment for fun.

The main thing that had caught Roy's attention, though, was the elder boy's arms. A tattoo of thick, black barbed wire snaked up from his left wrist to his shoulder, and Roy couldn't help thinking it was a rather strange and somewhat wild tattoo for someone of his age to have. And his right arm - oh god, his right arm. _Who __the __hell __has __automail __when __they__'__re __still __so __young...?_

He had been oddly intrigued, however, when, though there were seemingly endless pages of information about the band, albums, concerts and the like, the amount of information on the two boys personally was next to none. Neither of their birthdays - or even ages - were mentioned anywhere, and apart form the fact that the two were siblings (and Roy guessed from the photos they were close in age), none of their relatives or family was mentioned. Not once, anywhere.

Hell, Roy didn't even know their _names_.

"We're here!" Hughes sang hysterically, crudely yanking Roy out of his train of curious thoughts.

Roy grimaced, not bothering to hide his dread of the whole event. "Oh, great," he muttered under his breath.

Hughes grinned, laughing lightly. "C'mon - we've got an hour to kill before we even need to _think_ about getting there. Hey, maybe there's a bar round here."

Roy raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Drinking already, Maes?"

Hughes rolled his eyes, lobbing Roy's keys at him as the pair dragged themselves out of the heated car and into the autumn cold, the icy breeze nipping at their bare fingertips and thin clothing. "Not _me_, obviously. Just you." At Roy's mildly irritated, questioning glance, Hughes added, "I find it's easier to let loose and have fun if you're drunk."

Roy scowled, subconsciously hunching his shoulders and wrapping his arms around his torso to preserve his body heat. "I don't think I could _ever_ 'have fun' at this concert, even if I was so pissed I was passed out unconscious with five pairs of earmuffs on."

Hughes burst out in raucous laughter, alerting a nearby stray to their presence. It howled at whined at the intrusive noise from somewhere down the street. "Ah," Hughes finally managed to say once most of the laughter had dissipated, "I shouldn't have expected anything less of you, Roy."

Roy merely set his face into what was probably going to be a permanent scowl for the rest of the night, and turned his face away from his grinning friend beside him.

"So, friend - where do you wanna go?"

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><p>The two had ended up going to a bar anyway - there wasn't really anywhere else decent to go. Roy refrained from drinking as much as he normally did, as he was sure he'd need a good few glasses of scotch later to clear the ringing from his ears, and settled for a pint of weak lager. Hughes, however, threw himself straight at the whiskey, and he was in fits of giggles half an hour before the concert even started. It took Roy quite a while to decide whether to let Hughes knock himself out and then attempt to find his way back to East City by himself, skipping the concert, or whether to prevent Hughes from becoming any more of an embarrassment and stop him drinking, only to have to attend the concert with a drunk best friend and many screaming fans that would surely be the death of him.<p>

He decided, rather grudgingly, to be a kind soul and save Hughes's liver from any more damage, and proceeded to quite literally drag him out of the bar.

"Aww," Hughes had loudly moaned after Roy closed the door behind them. "I was just starting to have fun." Hughes pouted.

Roy resisted the overwhelming urge to smash his head against a wall. "There's the concert, remember?" he muttered irritably.

Hughes's face lit up. "Oh yeah!" he said dumbly. He blinked. "What's the time? It starts at eight-fifteen!"

Roy glanced at his silver wristwatch. "Half an hour."

Hughes jumped into the air - literally - and squealed for joy. He grabbed Roy's arm and began to sprint down the quiet cobblestone street, yelling, "C'maaaaaaan!"

Roy groaned, giving in. He was going to the damned concert whether he liked it or not (Hughes would make sure of that), and Maes wasn't going to suddenly become sober if Roy wished hard enough. He may as well just take it all in stride... right?

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><p>The pair were some of the first there - apparently, this was the type of concert where it was acceptable to walk in half an hour late. Roy was told by Hughes that they had seats reserved, but Hughes was going upfront to see how close he could get to the stage. Roy had rolled his eyes and sat down, grateful for at least some form of rest as he absently watched his best friend wandering aimlessly around the standing section of the stadium.<p>

As Roy sat down, he began to appreciate the seat he had been given. He wondered what lengths Hughes had gone to to obtain some of the best seats in the stadium, and Roy pushed aside all thoughts of cost.

Roy had been sitting down for only five minutes before something interesting caught his attention. A few people had been setting up the instruments and microphones onstage since Roy had arrived, so that wasn't anything new - it was the sudden intrusion of a new and completely unique element that caught his eye. Well, not his _eye_ exactly... more like his _ear_.

"What the fuck are you putting that there for?" a muffled shout came from the wings. "The amp goes to the _left _of the mic, not the _right_! Otherwise no one will be able to see the fuckin' drums, will they?"

Roy raised his eyebrows. The voice was startlingly young, a rough, slightly raspy alto that could only be produced by long-term voice strain. It sounded really quite angry, and Roy suddenly felt sorry for the men hurryingly moving the equipment onstage.

"Well I'm sorry if it ain't _perfect_ enough for you," one of the men currently shifting the ridiculously heavy amplifier grumbled.

"Yeah, well it's my fuckin' amp," the voice growled threateningly, and Roy wondered if he (it was obvious by the heavy tone of his voice that he was male) would ever actually come onstage. If he wanted the amp in a particular position, why didn't he move it himself?

_Hang __on..._ Roy thought slowly as a thought occurred to him. _It__'__s _his _amp?_

Now, Roy didn't know much about amps, but he knew electric guitars were often plugged into them, and most electric guitar players had their own amp. So if that voice owned the _amp_...

_...__He __owns __the __guitar_.

Apparently, that teenager with anger issues was the guitarist and lead singer of Roy's best friend's favourite band.

Roy grimaced, groaning out loud. _Oh __great_.

Roy listened absentmindedly to the rest of the hushed argument onstage as the rest of the fans filed in, a shockingly scene couple taking the seats to his left. Roy unconsciously leaned away from them.

After a further twenty minutes of agonised waiting, the lights currently blinding all occupants of the stadium dimmed considerably, leaving Roy blinking at the sudden darkness. He could vaguely make out two figures moving onto the stage. _The __band, __probably_.

His scoured the standing crowd for Hughes, but he was nowhere in sight. Roy sighed. He wouldn't even be able to see the sole reason why he was currently silently fuming at a concert of a band he absolutely _detested_.

At that moment, numerous white lights blasted onto the stage, and an explosion of screams, squeals and yells erupted from the audience.

Roy felt like just dying in a hole right there and then. The two figures on the stage were indeed the band members, and they truly lived up to their name. Both had voluminous black feathered wings seemingly sprouting out of their backs, and the effect was so good that if Roy was an idiot he would have believed them to be real. They had ridiculous black lipstick on, and rings of black eyeliner around their eyes, which in Roy's opinion just made them look like they'd been on the receiving end of a couple of tough right-hooks on the way to the concert. The teenager holding the shiny black guitar also had his famous tiger stripes on his cheeks, thought this time they were red. There were countless glints of silver littering both their faces and ears, though what Roy presumed was the elder brother's long, shimmering hair concealed most of his ears. They had matching outfits on, consisting of a red and black striped tank top and ripped leather pants, studded black gloves coating their hands.

The teenager standing at the front of the stage roughly gripped the microphone with his left hand while supporting the neck of the guitar with his right (Roy noted with mild surprise that the guitar was slung on the wrong way round - was the boy left-handed?) and flashed a rather luring grin at the crowd, which let out Round Number Two of squeals and giggles and screams. "Hey, motherfuckers!" he yelled into the mic. Roy winced at the language so openly used.

There was a loud chorus of response, and the teen's grin grew wider, showing a set of slightly crooked, pearly white teeth. "How is everyone tonight?"

There was another bout of incoherent screams, and the singer's grin turned into a broad smirk. He turned to mutter something to his bandmate before facing the stadium again and shouting into the mic, "What should we sing first?"

A sudden burst of words and phrases that Roy guessed must've been song names burst forth from the audience - though the song that stood out clearly over the rest was 'Fallen Angels'. Roy smirked slightly - a song named after the band. How original.

"Okay!" He yelled again, hoisting his guitar into a more comfortable position. The crowd was hushed into quiet murmurs as the drumsticks clashed four times, the harsh sound splitting through the thin air in the arena.

The two boys began the song with a harsh drum beat and few phrases yelled into the microphones. Roy sighed, resisting the overwhelming urge to cover his ears at the white noise about to cut his brain in half.

_Scream, shout_

_Scream, shout_

_We are the fallen angels_

The guitar entered, and the drum settled into a comfortable beat beneath it. Musically, Roy hated every second of it. Technically, he appreciated the sheer genius of the two boys currently playing in front of him. Their skills with the instruments were astounding - though only playing two instruments, there were at least three - possibly four - layers to the music, and it was so thick it reminded Roy of whipped cream.

It took him a while to figure out how strange that sounded when he was talking about music.

_We are the in-between, _

_Cast down as sons of war_

_Struck to the earth like lightning_

_On this world we're torn_

The teenager's voice sounded eerily like it did when he was talking - rough around the edges, but smooth and light. It sounded much better live than it did on the CDs Hughes played in the office, Roy would give him that much.

_We won't cause the pain_

_Of living out their law_

_Take joy in who you are_

_We know our wings are flawed_

Roy decided the only way he was ever going to get through this concert alive was to focus on the lyrics - he often found that if he focused on the lyrics of songs, most of the music was lost in the background. It was something that often annoyed him, but today he was euphorically grateful for it.

_We're bored to death in heaven_

_And down alone in hell_

_We only want to be ourselves_

The drummer joined in for the chorus, and together their voices rang out through the entire stadium. Roy wasn't sure whether they even needed microphones - all those were doing were giving him a headache.

_We scream (we scream)_

_We shout (we shout)_

_We are the fallen angels_

_We scream (we scream)_

_We shout (woah, woah)_

_To those who sing alone_

_No need to feel this sorrow_

_We scream (we scream)_

_We shout (woah)_

_We are the fallen angels_

There was a short guitar solo after the chorus, and Roy could swear he heard Hughes shout, "I love you!" from somewhere in the crowd. He cringed at the thought.

_Follow the morning star_

_A land where darkness failed_

_The passion left unholy_

_Now you found yourself_

_We have nowhere to go_

_No one to wish us well_

_A cry to find our home_

_Our stories they will tell_

_We're bored to death in heaven_

_And down alone in hell_

_We only want to be ourselves_

_We scream (we scream)_

_We shout (we shout)_

_We are the fallen angels_

_We scream (we scream) _

_We shout (woah, woah)_

_To those who sing alone_

_No need to feel this sorrow_

_We scream (we scream) _

_We shout (woah)_

_We are the fallen angels_

There was another guitar solo after the second chorus - this time, though, it was twice as long. The notes rolled off the strings in an astounding cacophony, and Roy was sure that had he seen the sheet music it would have been line upon line of triplets and trills. Roy was sure the boy was only doing it to show off his amazing guitar skills - yet something nagged at the back of Roy's mind. Even though his playing was extraordinary, it felt as if... it could be just _that __much __better_. Almost as if the teenager was holding back.

_Scream, shout_

_We are the fallen angels_

_Scream, shout, woah, woah_

_We scream (we scream)_

_We shout (we shout)_

_We are the fallen angels_

_We scream (we scream) _

_We shout (woah, woah)_

_To those who sing alone_

_No need to feel this sorrow_

_We scream (we scream) _

_We shout (woah)_

_We are the fallen angels_

The two seemingly abandoned all thoughts of a tune as they simply screamed the last lines into their microphones - though it sounded terrible and quite barbaric (not to mention the fact that the distortion of the speakers was physically painful), Roy couldn't deny the heartstring the final verse struck.

_We scream, we shout_

_We are the fallen angels_

_We scream, we shout, woah, woah, woah_

_We shout, woah_

_We are the fallen angels_

People were cheering even before the song ended. Roy wasn't, obviously - but hearing the raw desperation so well disguised by the guitar and drums had knocked Roy off his trail slightly, and he wasn't sure he liked it. Roy was typically a rather judgmental person, though he would never admit it, and someone's first impression on him was usually their last. Now, however, Roy wasn't quiet sure what to do, because the sincerity held in the harsh noise disturbed his mental image of the duo as common thugs.

Because common thugs wouldn't write a song like that.

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><p>Roy was thoroughly exhausted by the time the torture finally ended. He'd been whining to himself about the pain, apparently, when Hughes had found him among the crowd and dragged him outside. Roy wasn't too surprised that he barely remembered a thing after the first song - the songs had gradually escalated in volume, one by one, until the sound was almost unbearable and Roy literally couldn't hear what the person ten centimetres away was screaming at the top of her lungs.<p>

"That was _amazing!_" Hughes screamed as soon as the left the building. "That was just... _amazing_."

Roy rolled his eyes. "Well at least _someone_ enjoyed it," he muttered angrily.

Hughes grinned.

The couple Roy had been sitting next to suddenly sped past him, and their ecstatic yelps of glee made Roy wince. "Actually, Hughes, I'm gonna take a little breather round the back. All this noise is making my ears hurt."

Hughes burst out in extremely loud, tipsy laughter, further paining his best friend. "Sure, sure. I'll be in that bar from before, so find me there soon, 'kay?" Hughes didn't wait for an answer before darting down an alley, leaving Roy to his own devices.

Roy stared groggily after him for a few seconds before blinking and groaning, rubbing his face with his hand. He was _so __damn __tired_.

Roy tromped through the overgrown grass at the side of the road, heading towards the back of the stadium. The stadium was pretty big, so Roy figured in his current state it would take him a good ten minutes to reach the other side, and by then his ears will have stopped ringing and it's be nice and quiet. After all, who else in their right minds would hang around the back of a stadium when they could go loudly and annoyingly celebrate somewhere else?

To Roy's dismal disappointment, it seemed two other people had the same idea as him. They seemed to be just as exhausted as him, though, so he decided against interrupting their conversation. Not wanting to waste his walk here, however, he stayed just out of sight and listened in.

"God, that was fuckin' _awesome_," one muttered under his breath.

Roy's heart skipped a beat. That voice... it couldn't be-

He swirled around in his place, poking his head around the corner of the wall. His eyes widened at the two teenage boys leaning against the cold bricks. _The __Fallen __Angels_.

At first glance, they were almost unrecognizable. All the makeup was gone, and so were the wings. The choker necklaces, chunky silver rings and rude wristbands were also gone, leaving them looking surprisingly plain and, well... _normal_-looking.

"Yeah, it was," the younger boy answered, chuckling under his breath. Roy raised an eyebrow in surprise. The younger sibling was an inch taller than the first, and though not bodybuilder material, had a broader frame than his counterpart, and short, slightly spiky hair to boot. Yet his voice came out childish and high, reminding Roy of his own voice when he was eight.

The two stayed silent for a minute, before the older brother tugged something out of his right pocket, putting it between his lips while he searched his pockets for something else.

The younger one scowled, swatting his brother on his left arm. "You shouldn't smoke, Brother. It's bad for your health."

The younger brother gained an imaginary tick mark in Roy's mental list of good people.

"Don' care," the other muttered, finally finding the battered silver lighter in his pocket and lighting the cigarette. He breathed in heavily, before blowing a thick stream of smoke into his brother's face.

The younger's scowl deepened. "I'll confiscate the cigarettes."

"You wouldn't, Al. You know what I get like after a day without 'em." The older blonde gazed nonchalantly at a nearby tree, not really focused on it, but Roy could see even from a distance that his eyes were too sharp to not notice it, either.

'Al' sighed. "That's exactly why you need to stop smoking."

The elder snorted, but choked on the smoke and ended up leaning against a cold stone pillar, coughing his guts up.

The younger sibling looked on disapprovingly, crossing his arms. "Serves you right," he muttered.

"Fuck off," the older coughed.

Roy could swear he could see a small smirk on the younger brother's face, but he couldn't tell for sure. In an effort to get a better look, he leant forward - only to lose his footing on the damp grass and skid forward, landing face-first on the ground ten metres away from two of the most famous people in all of Amestris.

Roy lifted his slightly soiled face up off the ground, pulling himself into a kneel. The two teenagers were staring at him wide-eyed, as if they'd never seen a person before, and the younger brother ('Al'?) was doing a pretty damn good impersonation of a goldfish.

"_What __the __fuck?_"

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><p><strong>Ahaha! Minor cliffy? Major cliffy? :3 (Get it? XD)<strong>

**Yay for slight OOC-ness~**


	3. Two: Unusual Introduction

**Sorry for the near five-month wait, everyone. Really. Ehehehe.**

**Disclaimer~**

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><p><strong>Chapter Two - Unusual Introduction<strong>

Roy blinked with wide eyes. "I-I'm sorry," he stuttered, unsure of how he should react in a situation such as the one he was currently stuck in. "I didn't mean to, uh, eavesdrop."

"Um, don't worry about it..." Al assured with a small smile. "It wasn't your fault... was it?" he asked unsurely.

Roy shook his head. "No, I just came round here for some quiet fresh air, and I didn't want to interrupt you, and..." He trailed off.

The older boy grunted, standing up straight, apparently recovered, before taking another long drag on the cigarette hanging from between two automail fingers. "Get outta here."

"Brother! Don't be rude!" Al chided, before sighing. "Well, you're here now, so we may as well introduce ourselves. I'm Alphonse Elric, and this is my older brother, Edward Elric. We're _The Fallen Angels_," Al said with a smile, holding his hand out. At Roy's wary expression, he laughed, a high, chiming sound. "Don't worry; Brother and I may be in a death metal band, but we're not bad people." He added after his breath, slightly quieter, "At least, _I'm_ not."

'Edward' scowled. "I heard that."

Al stuck his tongue out.

_Oh well_, Roy thought, mentally sighing. _At least I'll have something to make Hughes jealous with_. He gently took Al's hand, shaking it lightly. "Roy Mustang. My best friend's a huge fan of yours," he chuckled.

Al smiled. "I take it you were dragged along for the ride?"

Roy grinned sheepishly. "Pretty much."

Al broke eye contact, turning around to face his brother, before hissing, "Brother, introduce yourself!"

Edward didn't even glance up from the patch of ground he was currently staring at. "I though' you already introduced me."

Al scowled. "Introduce yourself. It's rude not to."

Edward rolled his eyes, sauntering over to stand next to his brother. "Yo." He held out his hand, still holding the cigarette, which Roy hesitantly took, careful not to burn himself. The metal was warm, to his surprise - he'd expected it to be cold and icy to the touch, but it felt a bit like a radiator. "Call me Ed."

Roy blinked, diverting his attention from the boy's hand to his face. "Uh... Sure, Ed."

Ed smirked, releasing his grip. "Nice to finally meet someone who doesn't drool on my shoes."

"Brother!" Al scolded again, hitting him on the head this time. Ed laughed, wincing slightly from the pain.

Roy glanced off-handedly at his watch, wondering how long he'd been 'accidentally overhearing' their conversation. He choked on a gasp as the hand struck eleven - it'd been an hour since the concert had ended, and that meant Maes was probably being kicked out of the pub for being too drunk right that second. Roy groaned. He was going to have to drive home, with no directions.

"What's the matter, Mr. Mustang?" Al asked, noticing his sudden change in demeanor.

"You remember that best friend I told you about?"

Al and Ed nodded in sync.

Roy sighed heavily. "He's been at this pub for about an hour now, and he was pissed even before he got there. He's probably unconscious in an alley somewhere right now. The thing is, he was the one who drove us here, and I have no directions for getting home."

Ed and Al exchanged a glance. Apparently, they were the type of siblings who could tell what the other was thinking with only a small smile or a dip of the eyebrows.

"I mean," Roy continued, slightly embarrassed, "it's only a fifteen minute drive away, but... Let's just say that the only time I was ever in charge of finding the way to somewhere, I ended up in a car park, fifty miles in the opposite direction."

Al gave a nervous chuckle. "Where do you live? I have a driving licence; I might be able to get you there."

"South Keller District."

"Never heard of it," Ed muttered.

"Me neither, unfortunately," Al apologised, before an idea seemed to pop out of nowhere, and he smiled a little too nicely at his older brother, who scowled, but made no objection to whatever it was. "Um..." Al continued, "It might not be much, Mr. Mustang, but we have some sofas in our apartment, if you want to spend the night and wait for your best friend to drive you home."

Roy blinked, hardly able to believe the offer standing in front of him. His best friend's idols were asking if he wanted to stay the night. How happy Hughes would be... Roy's face grew wicked as he imagined how much Maes would owe him if he went through with it.

Then again, Roy had only just met them - who knew what their ulterior motives were? And even if they had none, their apartment could still be someplace worse than sleeping on the streets. Who knew with people like this.

Still, Roy was a brown belt in judo, not to mention a good eight inches taller than even the taller of the two - he was sure he'd be able to get himself out of a troublesome situation if need be.

He smiled. "Thank you. I'd really appreciate that."

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><p>"So," Ed grumbled, not very happy with the outcome of the situation and making sure everyone knew it, "<em>why<em>, exactly, am I following a stranger down the street to fuck-knows-where _wearing his coat_?"

"Because, Brother," Al answered, exasperated with his older brother's immature behaviour, "if you didn't wear his coat, you might get spotted - it _is_ just after our concert, after all, and there might still be fans wandering around."

"Then why aren't _you_ wearing his jacket?"

"Because I'm wearing yours."

Roy listened to the incessant complaining and explaining from four feet in front of them - it was a pretty quiet street, luckily, so there weren't many people or cars around. It also, however, had the effect of letting Roy hear exactly what was being said about him.

"I don't like him."

"Why not, Brother? He seems nice enough to me."

"Because... Because... _Because he's too fucking tall_."

"... That's no reason to hate someone."

"Yes it is! It's a perfectly good reason!"

"No it isn't- Brother, don't you dare take out another cigarette!"

"Why not?"

"Because I said so, and because you had one half an hour ago!"

"Yeah, but I didn't finish that one."

Roy had to restrain himself from laughing. He was almost certain that Edward the Smoker was the older one, yet with Alphonse as a younger brother, he wasn't quite sure.

He turned a familiar turn into a backstreet - thank god the route to the pub was simple - and showed the pair the gold '_The Black Diamond' _embossed above the entrance, just in case Ed still thought he was kidnapping them.

"Would you two mind staying outside?" Roy asked politely. "I don't want Hughes recognizing you or anything."

"Sure," Al replied, smiling and pulling his brother out of the way of a passing car.

Roy nodded in thanks, before mentally bracing himself and stepping inside.

The pub looked the same at night as it did in the evening. High schoolers out drinking over study work, middle-aged men sitting at the counter. And, just like last time, a very, _very_ drunk Hughes flirting with the pretty waitress.

Roy sighed. Sometimes he wondered why he bothered.

"Maes?" he called as he approached the table.

Hughes's head whipped round, and the ridiculous grin on his face made Roy honestly wonder how that woman could still stand to be seen with him - it must've been the goofiest, most idiotic grin Roy had ever seen. "Hughes, we need to go home now," he said slowly, as if he was talking to a four-year-old. "It's late."

"Reeeeeeaaaaaallaay?" Hughes slurred, his tongue lolling around in his mouth.

"Yes," Roy insisted firmly, before turning to the waitress with an apologetic smile. "I'm so sorry you've had to put up with him. I'll be taking him out of your hands now."

She giggled. "Don't worry about it. I was actually quite enjoying his story of the time he went scuba diving and he nearly got his leg bitten off by a shark."

Roy stared, awed. What woman on this earth would _honestly_ enjoy Hughes's company when he was completely stoned?

Well, apparently this one.

"Bye, Gracia!" Hughes yelled at the woman as Roy dragged him out of the pub.

She waved at him.

"Finally," Ed muttered as Roy finally emerged. "I was starting to think you'd been harassed or somethin'," he teased with a grin. "Wish ya had," he added under his breath, though it was obvious it was a joke.

Probably.

"Yo, ma mates!" Maes sung at Ed and Al, him arm slung over Roy's shoulder for support. "Long see no time!"

"Hughes," Roy asked, ignoring the stifled laughter of Edward and the awkward smile on Al's face. "Where are your glasses?"

"Ma glassesh?" Hughes slurred, blinking confusedly. "I wear glassesh?"

"Yes," Roy sighed, "you do."

"Oh." Hughes looked around the street for a few seconds before forming a reply. "I guess I musta lost 'em."

Roy groaned.

Al chuckled. "The apartment is this way," he said, gesturing vaguely behind him.

Roy nodded, and followed obediently as the two boys took their turn to lead.

"He really is completely pissed," Roy heard Ed chuckle from in front. "I don't think there's any chance he'll recognize us in that state."

"Me neither," Al laughed. "No offense, uh...?"

"Maes," Roy supplied. "Maes Hughes."

"Right." Al turned back momentarily to give Roy a sympathetic smile as he dragged Hughes along beside him.

"'M not pished!" Hughes yelled, far too loudly in the quiet, downtown street.

Roy shushed him, before calling ahead, "Thank you so much, you two. I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't offered me the night."

"Don't worry about it," Al replied. "After all, it wouldn't be good for our image if we were nasty to fans, now, would it?" he joked.

Roy smirked. "I guess not."

"Y'know," Hughes groaned from beside him, "I coul' really do with a fan righ' now. It's just so hot, righ'?"

"Sure."

* * *

><p>Twenty minutes later, they arrived outside a surprisingly up-market block of flats.<p>

"C'mon," Ed gestured towards the side of the building. "It's late, so we should use the back entrance."

Roy nodded, following the pair into a dim alleyway. He knew that, to outsiders (or possibly himself three hours ago), this probably looked like the most obvious trap known to mankind. _But_, he reassured himself, _even if something bad _does _happen, I don't have these muscles for nothing._

The keys jingled loudly in Ed's metal palm as he opened the back entrance, and Al lifted a finger to his lips as a sign to keep as quiet as possible.

Roy followed them up four flights of stairs, mindful of the fact that Maes was slipping in and out of consciousness in his arms.

"This way," Al whispered, gesturing down a narrow corridor. Roy paused beside them just as Ed pushed open a door with three shiny number twos embossed on the front.

Al shut the door after Roy had hobbled in, and fumbled around for the light switch for a moment before the room was bathed in dim, atmospheric light.

Roy raised an eyebrow at it, and Al seemed to have noticed, as he chuckled and said quietly, so Ed couldn't hear, "Brother doesn't like light."

"Oh."

Al grinned. "Come on, there are two sofas through here..."

Roy trailed down the narrow entrance hall, turning right into a large, open-plan room that seemed to be a living room, a dining room and a kitchen all combined. There were light floorboards underfoot, and the walls were painted as though one brother had each been given reign of two walls each. Two opposite walls - the walls behind and in front of Roy - were painted with messy red and black stripes, nowhere near straight or even, some of the paint running haphazardly onto the white skirting boards below it. The two other walls were a cold white, plain and a severe contrast to the other, rather morbid colour scheme.

It appeared to be the only room apart from the bathroom and bedroom - Roy assumed they shared a room, as there were only two doors - and it was easily the size of a small town hall.

The furniture also appeared to be picked by both brothers - the sofas were black leather, lazing in front of a blue glass coffee table separating them from a surprisingly small TV. The kitchen cabinets were ordinary pine, though the dining table was black and the dining chairs were padded with red leather seats. There was an odd painting of a creature, half-man, half-dragon, with black scales, pointed horns and menacing-looking eyes above a mouth filled with jagged teeth that appeared to be shooting blood-red fire at the onlooker, on the furthest wall, right next to a calming painting of the ocean.

All in all, it was an interesting flat.

"Here," Al gestured to the two leather sofas perpendicular to one another, "You can lay Mr. Hughes down there - Brother, you shouldn't be drinking coffee at this time of night - and I'll go get some spare blankets from Winry, okay?"

Roy nodded. "Thank you very much for all this."

Al waved him off as he made for the door. "Don't worry about it, Mr. Mustang." He left the room before Roy could object, leaving Roy alone with his temperamental brother.

There was a moment of tense silence, interrupted by a loud slurp of coffee. Roy stared. Who on earth drinks coffee at midnight?

"Uh... Who's Winry?"

"Why'd it any of your business?"

Roy would've flinched at the bristly comment if it didn't seem to be intended to be entirely casual. "Just curious."

Ed shrugged, leaning back and propping his elbows up on the jet black counter top behind him. "Old friend. Lives a couple of stories down."

Roy nodded, before readjusting his best friend on the comfortable-looking leather sofa. A spark of jealousy erupted in his aching joints, and he quickly flopped into the adjacent sofa.

He heard a dark chuckle from his right, and he glanced at Ed, who had a wry smirk on his face. "Make yourself a home, then."

Roy smirked a little in embarrassment, but it was obvious the boy didn't mind. Feeling far more relaxed now that he was sitting in a comfortable position, he asked a question that would've had any normal late-night coffee-drinker spewing up their drink all over the lovely wooden floor. "How can I be sure you two haven't just kidnapped us to rape us in your sleep?"

Ed raised an eyebrow. "Well, for a start, Al's underage." He gave Roy a once-over, before concluding with a mocking snort, "And who would want to rape _you_?"

Roy shot a mild glare at the teen. "Well, it's nice to know I'm safe," he deadpanned, much to Ed's amusement.

There was a polite knock on the door, to which Ed called, "It's open."

Al kicked open the door, stumbling inside as gracefully as possible with his arms tangled in blankets and pillows. He kicked the door closed behind him, wincing as it slammed. "Here you go, Mr. Mustang." He unceremoniously dumped them beside Roy, before yawning widely and blinking back tears. "I think I'm going to go to bed. Don't make too much noise, you two. And for god's sake, stop drinking that, Brother, or you're never going to get to sleep!"

Ed winked, smirking at his younger brother's exasperated expression. "Not planning on going to sleep."  
>"... Huh?" Al responded intelligently.<p>

"I'm going to stay up all night and watch Roy-Boy sleep."

There was a moment of silence, before Ed broke it with a raspy laugh. "Kidding, kidding! Geez, you're all so fucking gullible. Actually, I was planning on catching up on that text you made me abandon this morning."

Al raised an eyebrow. "Are you_ serious_, Brother? I mean, I know you love your studies and all, but _seriously_?"

Ed smirked.

"'Studies?'" Roy asked. These two had clearly dropped out of school a while back, so why were they studying?

Al grinned. "Brother can explain," he said through a yawn, before heading for a shiny silver door. "Night."

"Night, Al."

Al closed the door quietly behind him, and Ed and Roy were once again left alone (well, they may as well have been, for everything Maes was contributing to the conversation).

"So?" Roy asked conversationally.

Ed shrugged. "I may be in a band, but that doesn't mean I'm dumb, you know. So what if I like studying?"

Roy raised an eyebrow as Ed refilled his coffee from the coffee machine with practiced ease. "You study for fun?"  
>Ed flushed, his face screwing up in embarrassment. "Is that so strange?" he mumbled.<p>

Roy smirked. "Not really. I mean, I study sometimes, too, even though I'm way past university age... I suppose it's just surprising that someone so... I don't know, _you_ would like studying."

Ed scoffed. "Don't be so stereotypical, bastard."

Roy's smirk grew. "So, were you the nerdy type at school?"

Ed's face grew red again, though out of anger or embarrassment, Roy couldn't tell. "No, I wasn't!"

Roy nodded. "Of course," he said seriously, ducking as a plastic cup flew straight over his head.

"Shut up!"

Roy chuckled. "I'm going to attempt to go to sleep now, okay? So don't go all stalker-ish on me while I'm sleeping, or I swear I'll get Maes to take his hangover out on you tomorrow morning."

Ed scowled, still irritated. "Yeah, yeah."

Roy flopped down onto his side and tucked his feet up onto the soft leather, remembering to kick off his shoes. His eyes closed almost instantly, though it took him a while longer to actually drift into oblivion.

Ed hadn't realised that, obviously.

Roy listened intently to the sounds of refilling coffee cups and light footsteps on wood. He heard a rustle of papers and a muffled curse about something like 'freakishly tall bookshelves'. He stifled a smile as he heard Ed move something - presumably, to climb onto - and hiss in delight as he found the book he was looking for. Ed then proceeded to wander near his sofa, and Roy heard the horrid sound of metal against wood as a metal chair he vaguely remembered seeing was dragged closer. So close, in fact, that Roy could swear it was right next to his head.

So close he could hear Ed breathing.

It was this steady, slightly raspy sound that Roy finally drifted off to - perhaps it was the lack of distracting noises, but Roy couldn't help but admit to himself that he liked the sound of Ed's breathing. True, he liked the sound of Riza's breathing, too, and the sound of Havoc's breathing when he was smoking - so maybe it was just him being weird.

His train of thoughts led him down stranger and stranger paths and before he knew it, he was dead to the world.

* * *

><p><strong>Man, I wish I lived in a flat like that :D<strong>


End file.
